Solemn Gratitude

Right now, I find myself struggling with the concept that life offers no paved path. While those who know what they love receive little guidance on which forks to take, those who are anchored to nothing have an even harder time of knowing where to go. As I've said and thought so many times in the past few weeks, the future is unwritten. And while I have superficially accepted this fact, I am admittedly lost.

Somehow, living in a wide open world is sometimes more terrifying than living in one with no choices. It's very tempting to feel alone--the people who previously surrounded me like winter children on a recess playground have now dispersed in every imaginable direction. At the blast of adulthood's gun, we are sprinting.

My life one year ago was unimaginably different than the life I am living now, and that is a wonderful thing. (It means I am growing.) When I take time out of my day to consider this disparity, I feel lucky: genuine friendships and newfound independence have flooded my life. However, I've realized how horribly easy it is to remain unsatisfied. To think I have no friends and I can't do this alone and I'm just going through the motions.

Perhaps this thought process is one of society's ultimate plagues. Perhaps if I, or you, or anyone could consistently remain in a state of thanks, each day would uphold its supreme value in our collective mind. Perhaps if we revisited being winter children on a recess playground, spring on a college campus would reemerge as wildly sweet.